


Duncan In The Tub

by pat_t



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-03
Updated: 2012-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-04 18:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/396990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pat_t/pseuds/pat_t
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Methos has a bad day, but it doesn't stay that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duncan In The Tub

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pattyfeidt](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Pattyfeidt).



> Adult content for male/male slash, written for the PWP Bathtub Challenge, and for PCPatty. Challenge picture by Jubie.

Methos slammed down the gate to the lift, muttering to himself as he entered the loft with quick, arrogant strides. _'What a bloody horrible day,'_ he groused as he flung his coat across the couch, completely unmindful of the heavy broadsword embedded in its thick lining. It had, in fact, been the day from hell. First, he'd left the loft in a run, a half hour late for his morning meeting, after his alarm had failed to go off. Then, he was immediately brought up short by the sight of his right front tire that had magically gone flat during the night. Thirty minutes later, sweaty, greasy and a full hour late for his appointment, he was stopped by one of Seacouver's finest who gleefully gave him a ticket for speeding, then balefully lectured him on the current speed laws.

The day had only progressed from there as he was met with a stern warning if his lax work ethics did not show immediate improvement. _'Lax work ethics,'_ he had grumbled while stomping into his office. He'd show them "lax work ethics". They were bloody lucky he hadn't pulled his sword. Men had died for less. It was only the knowledge that the day was almost over and he'd be home soon, in the arms of his lover, which had saved the arrogant little man.

He should have known to ignore the flashing light on his answering machine when he picked up his coat to leave. He just wanted to put this day behind him -- find his lover and lose himself in the strong arms of one Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod. _'But, what the hell. The day couldn't get any worse. Could it?'_ It could, and it did, as Duncan's strong Scottish burr filled the room.

"Adam, I have to make an unexpected trip to Seattle tonight. I'm sorry, but this couldn't wait. I'll explain when I get home. I love you."

_'Well, yes. It could get worse, thank you very much.'_ He kicked the garbage can on the way out the door, slamming it hard behind him. He took little pleasure when a small plaque by the door fell to the floor.

Now home, he poured himself a triple Scotch, admiring the way the light filtered through the golden liquid, before taking a healthy swallow. He felt the abrasive liquor burn his throat as it slid down to his stomach, and he smiled in satisfaction. He knew he was feeling sorry for himself, and had no plans to stop anytime soon. He deserved a little self indulgence after the day he'd had. And, by God, he meant to self indulge. He eyed the liquor cabinet where Duncan kept his most expensive stock and kicked his shoes off as he mentally calculated his next reward.

Three drinks later found him back at the liquor cabinet, feeling no better as he sorted through Duncan's collection. He pushed a bottle of fine brandy out of his way and reached to the back, surprised when his hand touched the soft outer wrapping of an envelope instead of another glass bottle. Curious, he pulled it out, shifting it over in his hands as if the contents would somehow be magically known to him by doing so. He wasn't surprised when the one word "Duncan" appeared on the front in Amanda's neat scrawl. Amanda and Mac had had an on again, off again affair for years and she had been a guest at the loft many times.

He started to push the envelope back in its place when he suddenly wondered why Mac had been hiding it . After all, Methos knew about their past affair, and it wasn't like Mac to hide things from him. He felt a small pang of remorse as his fingers skimmed the opening, gently easing the backing from its tape. _'Self indulgence,'_ he reminded himself once more and pushed the guilt aside as the envelope opened.

He frowned as a handful of photographs slid into his hand. He shifted through them, more perplexed than ever. Duncan, sitting on the barge. Duncan standing beside his t-bird. Duncan at Joe's leaning against the bar. _'Why would Duncan be hiding these?'_ Then he sucked in a sharp breath as the last photograph slid into his fingers. Duncan, in the tub. The loft's tub, if he wasn't mistaken. The loft's tub almost overflowing with water and bubbles. Duncan leaning over the tub's side, naked, his buttocks wet and shimmering in the air above the water line. Buttocks that were parted in blatant invitation, the left cheek peaking out from a cloud of foamy white bubbles, while the right cheek beckoned openly. _'Oh my. This day was getting better.'_

* * *

He slid the photographs back into the envelope, returning it to the cabinet as he found it. All, except the picture he still had clutched in his hand. He was barely aware of his own actions as he slid off his clothes, tossing them to the floor in a clear trail to the bathroom. He carried the photograph with him, carefully putting it on a towel to protect it from water.

He dug through the bottom sink cabinet until he spotted the bottle of bubble bath at the very back. _'Thank you Amanda.'_ He filled the tub to the brim with hot water, pouring a generous amount of the fragrant bubbles under the stream. The tub quickly filled with thick foamy bubbles as he pulled down his briefs, smiling when his red, swollen cock bobbed playfully in the air.

_'Oh yes, this evening was definitely looking up.'_ He dried his hands, and grabbed for the picture, putting it where he could see it easily without soiling it in the process. He let his eyes scan every detail, putting it all into loving memory in his mind.

He closed his eyes and leaned back in the tub, taking his cock firmly in his hand once he was settled. Searching his mind for every detail, his inner eye let him see his lover as he draped himself over the tub. He saw the dark hair on Duncan's neck, the strong straight back tapering down to a trim waist. He began to stroke his flesh harder, imagining the feel of his lover's wide palm encircling his swollen flesh instead.

He breathed in deeply, inhaling the flowery aroma of the bubbles, skimming the slippery bubbles with his free hand, and imagined himself stroking a firm flank. Sliding his hand down his own thigh, he felt his lover's hand on his flesh, and imagined Duncan's muscular thigh at his fingertips.

The pressure was building in his cock, drawing up his balls, and he stroked harder, letting his legs fall open until his knees were touching the opposite porcelain sides. His vision narrowed, focusing on a pair of wet, soapy buttocks, their crease wantonly parted while the tiny opening winked at him in invitation. He stroked harder, shortening each press of his hand as his hips thrust   
upwards, sloshing soapy water over the side of the tub.

His breaths became raspy and shallow as he imagined his hand touching the left buttock, his fingertips sifting through the bubbles coating the soft skin. The hand in his mind pressed forward, skimming between the taut buttocks, a finger finding the ring of muscle and pressing inward.

He felt the tight flesh close around his finger as it entered, and stifled a scream as his orgasm ripped through his loins. Small, powerful contractions ran through his cock as squirt after squirt of creamy ejaculate shot out into the water. He kept his eyes tightly shut, letting the pleasure own him, as he saw his come splash across his lover's ass.

He opened his eyes once the beating of his heart slowed, his breathing deepened, and the chill against his skin demanded it. He looked at the mess he had left in the tub as the bubbles had all but dissipated, mingling with the sticky come from his own body. Chuckling, he eased out of the tub, grabbed for a thick towel, and quickly dried the chill away.

Placing the photograph back in its envelope, he slid it back into the liquor cabinet, and went to bed. He felt warm, sated and oddly contented despite the miserable day he had spent. Closing his eyes, he slowly drifted off to sleep, mentally calculating the supplies he would need to buy from 'Bed & Bath' before Mac arrived home.

 

~fin~


End file.
